


Fading

by AngieStilinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depressing, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic Bromance, Everything Hurts, Frontotemporal Dementia, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt Stiles, Just the Sickness part, Kind of like The Fault in Our Stars, Mentions of Claudia Stilinski - Freeform, Poor Stiles, Protective Derek, Scott is a Good Friend, Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski Feels, Sick Stiles, Sorry Not Sorry, Support Group, This hurts me more than it hurts you, Tissue Warning, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4136841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngieStilinski/pseuds/AngieStilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn't understand why this has to happen to him. To go on day by day knowing that you're going to die. Everyone's saying it's just a side-effect of the dementia...but it's not. They already know it's a side-effect of dying. Stiles doesn't need to be told twice.</p><p> </p><p>Or, The Nogitsune never existed and Stiles really did get the same sickness his mother had...Frontotemperal Dementia. And he feels he's starting to fade away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. School is Depressing

**Author's Note:**

> I just thought of this and I can't tell you how excited I am to write multiple chapters of it! Enjoy! Oh, it may contain some trigger warnings throughout later chapters...

He doesn't understand why this has to happen to him.

To go on day by day knowing that he's going to die. The doctors call it depression. Everyone, including his friends, say it's just a side-effect of the dementia…but it's not. They already know it's a side-effect of dying. Stiles doesn't need to be told twice. Days had gone by since the MRI scan at the hospital. Then days turned to weeks. Then to months. And not one of those days has Stiles ever had his mind taken off of the dementia slowly eating away his brain cells.

Then there was the migraines he would get, which would add to the list of side-effects of the dementia. Stiles called it normal. His father called it a killer…which Stiles agreed with but never admitted that he did. He agreed because it was the same disease that took his mother. It had come unexpectedly to both of them. Just like this exact moment.

Melissa requested to come to the hospital once a week for checkups and more hospital gibberish talk on medication to take and when the next MRI scan will be. Stiles won't even listen to half of what the doctors are telling him. Take fluoxetine. Take sertraline. There's no medication to take away the dementia. There's no cure.

So of course, Stiles had to just simply roll his eyes at the list of doctors named off of different medications to take. He knows his father can't blame him. Usually when they arrive home back from the hospital his father tries to lighten up the mood and try to take his mind off of it. It never works. He knows that his father tries so hard to take care of him. He loves him for that.

So here he was. Stiles Stilinski. The boy who never told his friends what his real name is, sitting on the edge of his bed as daylight peeked through the curtains of his bedroom. He can't remember the last time he slept; another side-effect. The list just keeps adding on.

A light knock on the door frame interrupted his thoughts. He turned to see the Sheriff with a coffee mug in one hand, not surprised to see him wearing his usual concerned and sorrowful face every time he looked at him. Stiles eyed the mug with sad eyes, knowing his father drinks coffee more than two times a day now, trying to keep himself awake for his son in case something happened. He remembers a few days ago telling the Sheriff to stop drinking coffee and get rest, but of course, he didn't obey. That's another thing on how much they have in common.

"Hey, buddy. You feel up for school today?"

There it was, the school talk. The night after the MRI scan he didn't go back to school for nearly two weeks. He remembered ignoring everyone's calls and texts asking him if he was okay. Scott included. He remembered Scott knocking on his front door when he didn't answer his calls and his father making up an excuse of him sleeping or a simple 'he wants to be alone right now'. Stiles had to laugh at the sleep part. Scott would easily know it was a lie without using his werewolf mojo. Since when did Stiles ever sleep?

"Yeah. I'll go."

His father could hear the hesitation in his voice, but he pushed it away and only nodded with a small smile before disappearing out of Stiles' vision, simply going downstairs. Stiles sighed and sat on the edge of his bed for a few minutes just staring at a small stain on his carpet where the sunlight shone on, before moving very slowly towards the bathroom.

He closed the door behind him and switched the light on (which wasn't needed since it was daytime but he didn't care) and opened the medicine cabinet above the sink to grab an orange pill bottle. With ease, he popped the pill in his mouth and swallowed it like it was nothing as he stared into his reflection in the mirror as he did it. He notices the bags under his eyes of restless sleep and how pale his skin looked, but he was always pale. He then grabbed the ibuprofen bottle and popped that pill in his mouth as he did the other. It was for the migraines, which only keep coming back every thirty minutes.

His father tells him not to take too much or it would be an overdose. Stiles tried to hide a distinctive roll of his eyes at the comment, but kept it to himself. He knows his father is just looking after him, just like every parent should do for their child.

Stiles then begins to make his way downstairs to smell the fresh aroma of the Sheriff frying eggs and toasting bread. He sighed inwardly on how much his father is telling him to eat more, but Stiles honestly hasn't been hungry lately. He stepped into the kitchen to pick up his backpack that was leaning in its usual spot on the back wall. Throwing a small smile at him. It wasn't a real smile. He can't remember the last time he smiled.

The Sheriff returned it and he placed the fresh cooked egg on a plate, turning against the stove to face him. "You hungry?"

Stiles shook his head and scratched the back of his head, waiting for a lecture from him. Surprisingly it never came. "Okay, if you won't eat while I'm here, maybe I'll have to ask Melissa to lecture you about getting your nutrients and maybe – just maybe, you'll listen to her?"

Stiles sighed. "Dad, I'm not hungry okay? And by the way, I really don't feel like being lectured as if I'm in a health class learning about the six nutrients. Coach Finstock already taught us that last year." Last year. Last year before I was diagnosed.

After several beats of silence, the Sheriff let out a long sigh. "Fine. At least…can you wait till I'm done eating and I'll drive you to school?"

Stiles shook his head again. "I think I'm capable of driving myself, Dad. I haven't completely lost it yet." He clamped his lips shut tightly at his last remark. He couldn't help but cringe at the sight of his father's hurt expression as he placed the plate on the table slowly. "Oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that-,"

"No." the Sheriff cut him off with a raise of his hand. "It's okay. I get it."

Silence hang in the air for several moments as Stiles watched his father pick at his food with a fork in hand. Stiles broke the silence with a sigh. "I guess – I guess I'll be on my way to school then."

The Sheriff nodded. "Alright. And Stiles?"

Stiles stopped his tracks at mid-turn to look at his father. "If – If anything happens-,"

"I'll call you." Stiles finished for him. "I know."

Sheriff nodded in agreement as he watched Stiles slowly leave out the front door.

 

The drive to school seemed long. Stiles had to blame himself for that since he drove at the speed limit of 20 miles per hour when it was supposed to be 35. Apparently the dementia makes him see things differently. When surroundings around him are fast it seems slow to him. Sometimes it's the other way around. It really irritates him.

He slowly pulled into a parking space in front of school, purposely parking right next to Scott's bike. Scott. He hasn't spoken with him since last week through a phone call. Scott was wanting to see if he was okay and why he barely went to school anymore. The way Scott says it is as if he has no clue about what's happening with him. He hated that. How people he knew would pass by him, pretending the dementia wasn't eating away his brain cells and act like he was completely fine. Fine? Since when?

Pushing away the stupid thought, he slowly climbed out of his jeep carrying his bag with him to only hear the school bell ring meaning that first period has just started. He sighed to himself as he took his time to walk into the school which now all hallways were empty. His walks felt as if an anchor was shackled to one of his legs, dragging heavily behind him when he finally reached his first period class. Health. With extremely irritating and loud Coach Finstock and his remarks about Greenberg and other talks of lacrosse in a health class. This class will definitely give me a migraine. He thought as he opened the door to step in.

"Don't make me tell you again, Greenberg-,"

Coach Finstock stopped his yell short when he glanced at who Stiles stepped in. All eyes in the classroom fell on him as he stood near the doorframe looking at nothing but the floor.

Finstock's eyes widened slightly. "Stilinski?" he said surprisingly softly instead of his usual outbursts.

Stiles finally looked up and realized Scott was eyeing him with wide eyes from across the room. Stiles' heart skipped a couple beats before quickly looking at the floor again. He had forgotten he had the same class with him. "Sorry I'm late, Coach."

"No! I-I mean," Finstock stopped to clear his throat. "Take a seat."

Stiles obliged as he slowly edged his way towards the empty desk behind Scott. He felt all eyes still stare at him even as he sat down as if they were burning heat signatures into his skull.

When Stiles was situated was when Finstock began to speak his usual outburst of yelling at Greenberg and continue on with the learning topic of the day. Scott turned around in his seat to face him with wide eyes and a shocked expression. "Hey, man. I thought you weren't coming today."

Stiles faked a smirk. "Yeah, I'm actually feeling a little better." Lie. I will never feel better. If Scott could hear his heart beat, he didn't care. He should know. Shouldn't everyone?

Scott gave a small smile. "Hey, you feel up to coming over by my house tonight? My mom's making lasagna."

Stiles loved lasagna. Scott knows he does. Stiles then remembered his father telling him to get out more and go over by Scott's. To be honest, Stiles felt bad for not being in contact with any of his friends lately. He knows everyone in the school feels bad for him. The way they look at him when they pass by him. Pity. Pure pity.

"Uh, sure. I-I'll come." He couldn't help but shake off the tremble in his voice. The migraine was coming back. It was as if someone was drilling into his skull. He closed his eyes in pain and rubbed the palm of his hands on his temple.

Scott noticed this and his wolf whined. "Stiles? You okay?"

Stiles nodded, rubbing a hand down his face. "Yeah," No. "I just…nothing. Nothing's wrong."

Scott knows it's a lie. Stiles knows he knows. Stiles could practically feel Scott staring at him the entire class period without having to look at him. "Stiles, you can tell me."

He only shook his head and stayed silent. Tell you what? That I'm dying?

The rest of the class period Stiles didn't talk or listen to Finstock's remarks and lectures. He only had his head down on his desk looking into pure darkness as the migraine began to grow. He tried his best not to wince or gasp in pain where Scott could notice. He was sure Scott already has.

He was thankful when the bell rang for first class to be over. When he brought his head up from the desk he realized he was the last person to get up and Scott was waiting patiently. He sighed as he grabbed his bag and swung it over his shoulder as they made their way to walk out of the classroom.

"Hey, Stilinski."

Stiles stopped short meters from the door to turn and see Finstock sit at his desk looking at him with pity in his eyes. There it was. The pity. But coming from him, it felt like he was hallucinating.

"I'm glad you showed up today. You think you can still help out with lacrosse?"

Stiles gave a small smile. "I'll think about it, Coach."

"Good."

Stiles walked out of the classroom then with Scott still waiting for him. The hallways were crowded when he stepped out and of course, all eyes were on him when he passed by. He couldn't help but feel slightly aware of his surroundings. He felt as if the student population in the school has overgrown since the last time he came. As if he was going to bump into one student that will make him topple over and the other students would trample over him.

He let out a sigh of relief when he finally reached his familiar locker with Scott's right next to his. Instead of opening it however, he only leaned his head against it, feeling the cool metal against his skin. He closed his eyes as the migraine made his head throb.

"-iles. Stiles."

Stiles picked his head up quickly to realize that Scott was trying to get his attention for quite some time now. He gazed into the familiar puppy eyed best friend who gave him a worried expression. "Stiles. You're not okay. Do you need to go home?"

Stiles would have laughed if he was in the spirit. If he wasn't diagnosed. But he only gave a fake smile. "I'm good, Scott."

"No, you're not."

"What else am I supposed to say?"

Scott clamped his lips in a thin line and looked at the floor. Stiles could see regret written all over his face. He sighed and patted his shoulder. "Look, Scott. I'm just gonna see if I can survive the whole school day, alright? And if…if I feel any worse, I'll let you take me home."

Scott looked at him again and their eyes locked. "Promise?"

Stiles hesitated for a short split second. "I promise."

If only he wished it was true.

 

They were in Mr. Yukimura's class now. It was just like first period. The stares, the migraine. The only difference was that Lydia and Kira happened to be in the same class they were. Lydia eyed him the entire class period and he could almost feel Kira staring at the back of his head. He tried to ignore eye contact with anyone. He was just thankful Mr. Yukimura didn't call on him to read today.

Scott sat on the other side of the room away from him so Stiles wasn't sure if he would look back at him once in a while. But he had a feeling he did. He couldn't help but glance at Lydia from across the aisle, trying to sneak her phone under her desk texting someone. Stiles found that odd because Lydia was the smartest girl he knew and she would think twice before texting during class.

Then it hit him. He leaned slightly to his right so that he could see Scott clearly, to also see him sneak his phone under his own desk beginning to text. They were talking about him. Stiles didn't need to turn around to look at Kira because he knew that she was texting them too.

"Phones away, please."

All three heads looked up at Mr. Yukimura, which he returned with a stern look. Stiles almost laughed. Almost.

They reluctantly obliged and slipped there phones back in their bags.

The bell rang for the class to be over and the students all scattered out of the classroom as if there was some famous celebrity giving autographs in the hallway. The last ones out were Stiles, Scott, Lydia, and Kira, who of course waited on Stiles since he took his time on getting up.

Lydia smiled sweetly, though somewhere behind her eyes, Stiles could sense the sadness. Same with Kira. "Hey guys."

They greeted him back with smiles. Stiles was sure he had never seen Lydia smile so big. Scott patted him on the shoulder as they all walked out of the classroom together.

"So, Stiles. How've you been doing?" Lydia asked as they made their way to the cafeteria.

Stiles hesitated. You mean besides the constant migraines? "I'm fine."

Lydia slowed her pacing for a moment before walking their speed again. She knows I'm lying.

 

Lunch with Allison and Isaac was interesting. Allison talked to him the entire time, for once taking his mind off of the dementia. Even Ethan and Aiden showed up at the table along with Danny who seemed a little awkward at first but then grew used to it. Scott was surprisingly quiet though. He sat to the left of Stiles once in a while taking a glance at him from here to there. Stiles didn't talk at all. He only managed to nod or shake his head to yes or no questions and he answered repeating questions such as 'how are you feeling?' or 'are you okay?' Of course, he didn't mind answering them. It just felt weird to answer the same thing repeatedly. He stared at his untouched tray of food picking at it with his plastic fork as if it was plain dirt.

"Are you going to eat?" Lydia asked, ending the awkward silence. She eyed the tray of food then looked at him then look at the tray again. Her eyes narrowed.

Stiles placed his plastic fork on the table beside his tray and shook his head. "Nah, I'm not hungry."

Lydia pressed her lips into a thin line as all eyes turned to him once he said it. Great.

"Are you sure you're not hungry, Stiles?" Allison asked, quickly taking a sip from her water bottle. "Have you eaten anything yet today?"

Stiles hesitated before shaking his head slowly. "No."

"Stiles you should eat." Scott jumped in. Stiles had to roll his eyes.

"I'm fine."

"No, Stiles. You're not fine. Tell me the truth."

"The truth? You want to know the truth?" the whole cafeteria got quiet then and he could feel all eyes were on him. He didn't care. "The truth is, I'm dying Scott, okay? I'm sorry if that hurt you but that is the truth! You all just go around and look at me and talk to me as if I don't have it. But I know I have it, okay? I know I have it and there is no reason to make me think otherwise! So maybe you're right, Scott. Maybe you're right that I'm not okay. Because I will never be okay!"

Stiles grabbed his bag and stormed out without any others to protest. He could feel all the shocked glares thrown at him at his back but he kept moving. He heard Scott calling his name but he pushed it away and walked out of the cafeteria and walked out of the school.

Dementia. He cursed the word now. He could feel himself beginning to fade away.

 

Stiles felt regret. He never meant to yell at Scott or anyone. He knew it was the dementia changing his behavioral status. That's what apart of Frontotemporal Dementia was. Stiles couldn't help himself but research the disease on his laptop a few days after he found out he was diagnosed. Behavioral variant frontotemporal dementia; takes its greatest toll on personality and behavior. It is sometimes mistaken for depression.

Stiles closed his eyes as he sat on the floor with his back leaning against the foot of the bed. When he had gotten home, he took another fluoxetine pill and two ibuprofen pills for the excruciating migraine. He never wanted this. This life. This disease.

His dad told him he took a few weeks off of work to look after him. Stiles couldn't blame him. He gets worse every day and there's no stopping it.

For some reason, he finally began to feel sleepy. That wasn't normal. It must have been the ibuprofen. His eyes stayed shut closed for a while, hoping he could finally sleep until a light knock on his doorframe made him blink his eyes open into awareness. He turned to see Scott standing there hesitantly, sadness was written all over his face.

"Hey." Scott murmured, not moving from his position.

"Hey." Stiles replied, shifting into a comfortable position on the floor. "I'm guessing my dad let you in?"

Scott nodded as he finally had the courage to make his way towards his best friend and sit down close beside him until their shoulders brushed. They sat there for a while in silence, not seeming to find any words to say. And then that moment ended.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

They both muttered in unison, locking each other's gazes. Stiles scoffed. "Scott, I should be the one apologizing, okay?"

Scott shook his head firmly. "No. It should be me. That outburst you made in the cafeteria? That was my fault. I pushed you-,"

"It's called Behavioral variant frontotemporal dementia. It's known to change personality and behaviors."

"And that wasn't your fault." Scott pressed. "You can't control it."

Stiles drew out a shaky breath and opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out.

"That behavioral variant thingy? That's a side-effect of the dementia-,"

"No, Scott. It's a side-effect of dying."

Scott clamped his lips shut as he examined Stiles' watery eyes. Stiles bit his lip, trying to keep in a sob. "Why can't you just admit that I'm dying, Scott?" Stiles felt a single tear stream down his cheek. "There's no hope."

Stiles would have called it Déjà vu if he had his sense of humor again. But that's not what happened. It feels like they're back the hotel again, except that it's Stiles holding the flare over a puddle of gasoline this time.

Stiles couldn't help but notice the realization hit Scott's eyes. Before he could ask, Scott answered for him. "Stiles…the bite."

Stiles heart felt like it completely stopped. It's funny what two words can do. "W-what?"

"The bite. It can save you. It can…" Scott broke off when he saw Stiles slowly shake his head in denial. "Stiles?"

"I can't." Stiles choked as more tears streamed down his face. "I-I can't do that to my dad. I can't risk it."

Scott's eyes began to water at Stiles' words. "No, Stiles. You don't get to do that. You don't get to choose. Y-you have to take it because I am not watching you die."

"And what would happen if the bite won't take? I'm not strong enough. I-I'm not strong enough, Scotty." Stiles couldn't keep in his sobs. "If you do it I will never forgive you."

Scott let a few tears stream down his face as he pulled Stiles into an embrace. Stiles wrapped his arms firmly around his best friend as he cries into his shoulder. "We'll get through this, Stiles. Okay? We're gonna get through this together."

Stiles hoped he can actually believe it.


	2. Things are 'Okay'

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm afraid there's no other option, Mr. Stilinski."

Stiles groaned and tried to hold himself back from bashing his head against the wall. He was paying the hospital a visit for the checkup Melissa had explained to him a few weeks back. Support Group. Freaking Support Group. He really, really, hated hospitals. He had to admit the doctor looked professional enough to know what he was doing. Big lab coat. Thick wired glasses. Just like any normal doctor you would see in a TV show drama. What was it called? The dementia is working a lot faster than Stiles thought. He could get used to wearing the hospital gown for every appointment he attended to. Especially sitting on the bed frame, trying to sit still the best he could just so he won't be able to make that crushed paper noise.

"Unless you want to make an appointment with a psychologist." The doctor suggested. Stiles wanted to punch the guy.

"Why? You think I've already reached the limit of crazy?" Stiles couldn't help but blurt out. He ignored the stern look his father gave him from across the room at his remark.

The doctor's face turned hot with embarrassment as he exchanged glances with the Sheriff before meeting Stiles' gaze again. "No, Mr. Stilinski. There's-,"

"Support Group with be fine for him, Dr. Landis." The Sheriff jumped in before the doctor had a breakdown of nervous wrecks.

Stiles eyes widened and scoffed, waving his arms in a wide gesture. "But, Dad-,"

"No 'buts', Stiles. You are attending this program. No exceptions. Got it?"

Stiles rolled his eyes and looked at the wall directly in front of him. Maybe if I just stare at the wall really hard, he'll just drop it. But that's not what happened.

"Got it?" he pressed. Stiles could hear the grinding of his father's teeth when he said it.

Stiles sighed. "Yeah. Got it."

Support Group. Stiles inwardly scoffed. This just made my day.

 

Well, apparently the doctors did see him crazy after all since Support Group just so happened to be held at Eichen House. And not once had it ever crossed his father's mind that it was a bad idea. All night since the appointment at the hospital he listened to him ramble 'you need this' or 'you're depressed'. He didn't have the strength or words to argue back as he disappeared upstairs to his room to sulk as he always did every night.

Now here he was sitting in a large circle of diagnosed teenagers with his arms crossed and his back leaning against a chair whose legs were uneven. From what he could understand so far, two or three of the diagnosed teenagers in the group were patients here in Eichen House. Not creepy at all.

He tried not to stare too much. He could tell that there were a few cancer patients and there was one girl who seemed to have cerebral palsy. One teen creeped him out because she stared at him the entire time. She had acne all over her face and thick glasses that reminds him of Urkle, and he tried not to mind on how she would chew on her own hair. He felt like the odd one out. He didn't belong here.

What really surprised him when he came in, was Marin Morrell, who happened to be the spokesperson for the Support Group. She locked gazes with him and Stiles could see there was surprise written on her face, but she hid it very well. He knows she quit being the guidance counselor at their school after the alpha pack came apart. When he looks into Morrell's eyes, he can't hide the hate he feels towards her for what she's done.

"I'd like to discuss how everyone is feeling today. About any emotional struggles. But first, why don't we all introduce ourselves."

Don't call on me. Don't call on me.

"Stiles?"

Stiles had to roll his eyes. Of course she had to pick him. He was the only one she knew in the whole group. "Mhm."

"Would you like to share with us the reason you're here today. How you're feeling?" Morrell's dark eyes stared upon him and he felt all the teenagers look over at him. Talk about peer pressure.

Stiles thought about not answering at all. About waiting for Morrell to skip him and go on to someone else, but he surprisingly found the courage to speak. "I, uh…," I paused to scratch the back of his head. "I was diagnosed with Frontotemporal Dementia two months ago. And…turns out it's the same illness my mother had before she passed away."

It hurt to talk about her. Every time he did, he tries his best to hold back an ocean of tears.

"And…?" Morrell's eyes narrowed, waiting for him to say something else. "How are you feeling, Stiles?"

Stiles would have laughed. Morrell really had to reference The Fault in Our Stars – which a certain strawberry-blonde forced him to watch with her. "I'm fine."

He felt like he was in sophomore year again, taking a counseling session with Morrell. He spoke the same exact words to her. He's been having a lot of Déjà vu moments lately. He didn't listen to Morrell talking anymore as she moved on to the other Support Group members. He just sat there, waiting for the session to be over.

 

Stiles took his time to walk out of the asylum and through the gate that led into it. He just felt like going back to his room, sulking, and watching a movie marathon just so he could be alone. He remembered he used to hate it, but now he kind of enjoyed it. It scares him how fast his personality changes.

What really scared him was that he nearly just got ran over by a car which screeched to a halt in front of him. If he would've walked into the street without looking both ways, boom, that would end his miserable life. His eyes narrowed when he took in the familiarity of the car. A familiar black Camaro he knows so well. He didn't need the person to roll down there window to know who he was.

"Derek?"

Derek gave a small smile and of course Stiles saw the pity. "Hi, Stiles."

"W-What are you doing here? You could've hit me, you know that?"

Derek's eyebrows raised. "I know what I'm doing. Besides, Scott told me you came here for Support Group. I was thinking you could use a day out. How does ice cream sound?"

Stiles blinked and furrowed his eyebrows. Am I hallucinating? "The Derek Hale wants ice cream? With me?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "Just get in the car, Stiles."

Stiles hesitated but found his feet moving on the other side of the car and open the passenger door to climb in.

There was silence during the drive as Stiles leaned his head against the window, looking out as they passed buildings. The migraine was coming back again. He closed his eyes in pain and he could feel Derek side glancing at him. "So, Stiles-,"

"If you ask how I'm feeling, I'm gonna punch you." Stiles retorted without opening his eyes.

"That wasn't what I was going to ask you. I was going to ask you what type of ice cream you'd like, but thanks for the heads up."

Stiles drew out a dry laugh, finally looking over at Derek whose firm eyes stayed on the road. "So Derek Hale does have a sense of humor. I knew you'd come out of your shell one of these days."

He turned back around to look out the window again and he could sense Derek roll his eyes.

"I wouldn't exactly call that humor, but okay."

"Vanilla, by the way."

"What?"

"You asked me what type of ice cream I'd like. I'll have vanilla."

Derek nodded. Silence hang in the small space of the car.

"I, uh…I heard Scott offered you the bite."

Stiles sighed. "Looks like word goes around quick. What? Is that like a werewolf thing you guys do? If that's the case, I'll be locking my bedroom window from now on."

"Stiles, I'm serious." Derek said firmly, looking at him. "Why didn't you take it?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"We can't watch you-,"

"I said I don't wanna talk about it, Derek." He didn't mean to yell it out. He stopped Derek just in time before he finished his sentence. We can't watch you die. He didn't be need to be told twice. He had just gone through an emotional discussion with Scott about it three days ago. When Derek grew quiet after that, Stiles drew out a long sigh. "Look, I-I'm just not ready, okay? I'm not ready to discuss the real reason of why I can't accept it."

Derek stared at him. Oh god. Not that look. Stiles hated when Derek looked at him like that. Face blank and expressionless. If he was ever interrogated to give top secret information, Derek's look will make him tell the terrorist everything.

"Hey, can you please look at the road. I can't wait to tell everyone I got in a car accident with Sourwolf." The sarcasm was back at least. But Stiles was sure that was all going to fade away sooner or later.

Derek's gaze turned back in front of him with a roll of his eyes, going back to a determined look with eyebrows furrowed and scowl that never brought its lips into a smile. For a drive just to get ice cream seemed like one of the longest rides ever when accompanied by Derek Hale.

 

They ate there ice cream in awkward silence. Their only interaction was stares at one another then once in a while focusing on eating. For a pretty depressing day, the weather did seem nice. The sun was out and there was a small breeze that Stiles used to love. Used to.

He was becoming a different person and he was sure others noticed too. Everyone tells him it's the dementia changing his behavior. Stiles believes part of it but he also agrees on his father's part telling him how depression can change a person. But the dementia was the cause of depression. It was written all over him, even a little kid could see it.

"So there's a pack meeting tonight," Derek said as he finished eating the ice cream cone. "Everyone wants you to be there."

Stiles was silent for a few moments.

"Yeah. I'll go." He muttered. He knows Derek can sense the hesitation in his voice. To be honest, Stiles really didn't want to go. But he sometimes had to stop caring about himself and care about his friends too. They didn't just want him. They needed him.

Derek nodded and Stiles caught his small pull of the lips going upwards, almost a smile. "Wow. I'll remember this day, that's for sure."

Derek's eyebrow's furrowed, not quite getting it. "What?"

"I mean, it's not every day you see Derek Hale smile. Like – at all. So I guess I'll have to make a deal with you."

Derek pulled on his scowl again and gave Stiles a kind of look of what-are-you-up-to. But before Derek could reply, Stiles spoke first.

"If you smile, even if it's just once, every time I see you, I guarantee I will begin to put a smile on my face in return." Stiles smirked as he finished his last bite of his cone.

Derek raised his eyebrows. "Ha-ha, very funny, Stiles."

"No. I'm serious. I will smile if you smile. I'm sure it will make every one fall in love with it, like Allison says."

Derek quirked a brow. "Oh, really?"

"Yep," Stiles said, popping the 'p'. "Especially those eyebrows. I think they get more of a workout then you do every day."

Derek clamped his lips in a thin line and Stiles smirked. "Oh come on, Der. Don't hold it in. Let it out. Your laugh can't be too bad, can it? Wait, do you snort when you laugh?"

Derek didn't answer as he still had his lips clamped into a line. Stiles rolled his eyes in humor.

"Makes me wonder what you're thinking right now." Stiles said, making his eyes squint.

"I don't know. Whether or not if I should rip your throat out with my teeth?"

Stiles smiled, his first smile in the past few months that was actually real. He winked, pointing a finger at him. "That doesn't surprise me."

Stiles knew he had to be hallucinating somehow, because Derek actually smiled. He smiled. Stiles clapped his hands together once making the sound echo throughout the park, not caring if the public turned to look at him. "Ladies and gentlemen, Derek Hale. Oh my god, I'm totally telling Scott about this later."

Derek's smile seemed to stay frozen on his face for a while as Stiles rambled off more jokes. Stiles never thought he would smile again. Especially with Derek Hale, who he never expected to get a smile from in the first place. Stiles seemed to forget all about the dementia within that next few hours. And he was…happy. He hoped it would last for a while.

 

After the ice cream in the park, Derek drove him straight to the loft where everyone was already waiting. Scott, Lydia, and Allison greeted him with tight hugs and several 'glad you could make it' talks and Isaac gave him a few pats on his shoulder. They spread themselves out on Derek's couch and Stiles just so happened to be sitting in the middle of Scott and Allison. The rest sat on the floor and Stiles eyed the bottle of beers they all had for themselves warily. He knows he can't drink when he's in this state. Hell, he really wanted to, but he instead had a can of grape soda Derek had stashed somewhere in his loft.

They talked for what seemed like hours about random things that Stiles doesn't even remember what even started the conversation. Allison smiled the entire time, which had to bring an own smile to Stiles' lips. He hasn't seen her smile this much since sophomore year when she started dating Scott. Lydia smiled too, and he couldn't help but notice her eyeing him every ten seconds as the conversation kept going on. Isaac was talking now, and everyone couldn't help but burst into laughter at his words.

"I bet I can beat you in a fight, Scott." Isaac smirked, taking a swig of his beer.

Scott scoffed playfully. "I think you should think twice about making that bet. I'd watch for our werewolf status."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Just because I'm a beta and you're a true alpha doesn't change anything."

"Like that time I threw you into the wall at my house?" Scott remarked. Stiles laughed, and he couldn't help but notice Allison furrowing her eyebrows in confusion as she gazed over to him.

"What are you talking about?" Allison asked. At the same moment, Scott and Isaac exchanged looks, eyes widening.

"Nothing."

"Nothing."

They blurted in unison, tearing away each other's gazes with a swig of beer. Pure fear and embarrassment was written on their faces. Stiles understood exactly what they were talking about as he clamped his lips together trying to hold in a laugh. He was surprised Allison didn't get it. She had no idea.

They talked for hours and Stiles realized as he looked out the giant window in Derek's loft, the sun was completely out of sight and replaced by the night sky. Lydia was the first to leave as she quickly gave a goodbye hug to Stiles – he couldn't help but notice the way she hugged him. Tight and almost endless. Stiles could tell that she feels his sadness, before she let go and walked out of Derek's loft, hearing the echoes of her high heels clack against the floor. One by one they left silently until it was only him, Scott, and Derek left.

"So, do you want me to take you home?" Scott asked, as he made his way to the door in a slow pace.

Stiles drew out a dry laugh. "I am not riding on the back of your bike. Besides, you shouldn't be driving when you had about two beers."

Scott turned to him, bringing a small smile to his lips. "Can't get drunk, remember?"

Stiles winced. I totally forgot about that. The dementia was coming back to his mind again. Memory loss. He was just glad it was the small things. For now. He only gave a fake smile and waved out his hand in a gesture, shooing Scott away. "Yeah, yeah. You and your werewolfy stuff. Show off."

Scott rolled his eyes and playfully punched Stiles in the shoulder. "Well, you have to have a ride home. And you just so happen to live only a few houses down from me, so you are going to ride on the back of my bike."

Stiles groaned. "You know, if anyone I know from school sees us, you're dead. I don't care if you're a werewolf, you are dead."

Scott laughed. "Well, let's hope no one sees us."

"Don't jinx it, Scotty."

 

Stiles listened to the roar of Scott's bike drive off down the street as he stepped into his house. He felt exhausted, which wasn't normal because he rarely slept at all. He quietly made his way down the hall, expecting to see his father step out somewhere. But he was nowhere to be seen.

"Dad?" His call made him wince at how loud it sounded as it bounced off the walls of his house. No reply.

His first thoughts were that he was sleeping upstairs, but judged on by the fact the kitchen light was on, changed it. He knows his father never leaves the lights on. He slowly walked towards the kitchen and outstretched his arm to switch the light off, until he saw the Sheriff sitting at the dining table. He was asleep, with his head leaning against the back of his hand. Stiles' heart dropped when he saw a cup of glass inches away from his other hand that had little whiskey left inside and the bottle not far from it.

He drew out a shaky breath as he slowly edged his way towards him, a hand outstretched in the air to touch his shoulder, but stopped midway when he saw something out the corner of his eyes. He glanced down at the table to see a manila folder lay neatly in front of the sleeping Sheriff. Stiles knows he shouldn't look, but he couldn't help himself. He slid the folder towards him and opened it slowly. His breath caught in his throat. It was pictures of his brain from the MRI scan. The lobes of his brain was dissipated. They were still dissipating to this day. Stiles' eyes watered as he closed the manila folder.

He forced himself to keep in a sob as he put the glass in the sink and the bottle away on a high shelf – hopefully his father won't find it. He turned his gaze back to the Sheriff passed out and placed a soft hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.

The Sheriff's sockets barely fluttered open, but he was very aware that Stiles was there. He shifted himself to take his hand he was leaning against away from his face. "Mhm…Stiles…?"

Stiles sighed and patted the back of his shoulder. "C'mon pops." He gently pulled on his arm to help hoist him off the chair and kept a tight grip on his sweater when the Sheriff staggered and would nearly topple over. "Let's get you to bed."

Step by step was a struggle as Stiles tried to keep a trained grip on him as they made their way up the stairs. He couldn't take his mind off the folder. His father was drinking again. He thought it would stop after his mother died, but that couldn't happen because he was about to die too. His father would only drink more and more and he would have no one left. No one. He drew out a shuttered breath when they finally reached his father's room and settled him gently on the bed. He paused for a few moments to catch his breath as he slowly began to pull off the Sheriff's shoes from both of his feet and place them neatly in his closet. As he came back, he used his hands to shift his father's body so that his head was on the pillow instead of his feet dangling off the side. "Okay pops, more salads for you."

When he was finished covering his father with a blanket, he exited the room quietly, shutting the door halfway behind him to make his way to his own room down the hall. When he closed his door, he couldn't contain his sobs anymore. He slid to the floor with his back leaning against the door, bringing his hands to grab at his hair, slightly pulling. His bottom lip quivered as numerous of thoughts went through his mind. It hurts. Please, make it stop. It hurts. He quickly realized that he wasn't thinking, he was saying the words aloud between his sobs. He was scared. He didn't know what to do anymore. Scott's bite may not take. But Scott can't know the real reason why he couldn't accept it. He couldn't.

Stiles sobbed until he fell asleep. Finally, a restful sleep. But not a happy one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles!whump in next chapter, just for the heads up. I hoped you enjoyed this update! See you soon.


	3. Tremors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. Enjoy!

"Hey man, are you coming over later?"

Stiles couldn't help but bring a small smirk to his lips at how hopeful Scott sounded on the phone. It's been two weeks since the pack meeting he attended to, and he was really urging to see his friends again. Constant hospital appointments and Support Group three days a week had him on a busy schedule. He sighed inwardly of having to decline Scott's request.

"No, sorry. I have an appointment for an MRI scan later today. Apparently Dr. Landis," he really hated the guy. "Requested to have this scan longer than the other one. You know, just to make sure not to miss anything on my dissipating frontal brain lobes."

Stiles could hear Scott suck in a shaky breath on the other line that made his heart skip a beat. He guessed Scott wasn't wanting to hear the details about it. He closed his eyes in sympathy and embarrassment, parting his lips to give an apology, but Scott spoke before he did.

"If you want…you know. If you want me to come with you this time-,"

"Scott, you don't have to. I just – I just don't want it to be too much for you to see."

Because he didn't. He didn't want to see the pity in his eyes again, and knowing his best friend, it wasn't going to be taken off of his mind anytime soon.

"I want to. I-,"

"Scott-,"

"No, listen. I realized I barely spend time with you anymore since…," Stiles heard him pause and draw in another shaky breath. "I just want to be there for you Stiles. Just like how you're always there for me. And if it's too much…I'll just walk out, okay? Please. Let me do this."

Stiles hesitated, running a shaky hand through his hair as he paced his room. He knows Scott was right. He hated when he was right.

"Okay."

 

Stiles' hands shook as he pushed himself weakly to sit on the table hooked up to the magnetized machinery. He failed a few times to get himself up and he could feel Scott's gentle hand on his back giving him a maneuvering push, but Stiles only batted it away with a simple 'no, I got this'. He could feel his best friend's eyes glare him down from the back of his head at his refusal, but took his mind off it when he finally hoisted himself onto the table. He would've gave a humorous fist pump in the air for his achievement, but he didn't. He couldn't. He felt too weak to even lift his arm up in the air or move any other limb, but he knows he'll have to move again.

He looked to Scott who stood in front of him, putting on a fake smile. Stiles knows that he's only trying to lighten up the mood. He only gave a small smirk in return, breaking eye contact as he stared down at his own dangling feet, deep in thought. This moment reminds him of his first MRI scan. He remembers what Scott told him. The bite. I'm not strong enough.

Stiles forced himself to swallow a lump in his throat as Dr. Landis placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention. He saw his lips move but he couldn't hear any words come out, but he understood just what to do. Trying to hold back a wince he shakily brought his body down to lay and shifted until he felt his shoulders butt up with the familiar thick plastic brace. The ear buds in his ears were irritating but as Dr. Landis said, 'they are used to prevent ear loss.' Stiles had to hide the roll of his eyes.

He felt the doctor spread out a blanket over him and Stiles never felt so still in his life. He looked to his left to realize that Scott was gone who had disappeared into the computer room with the Sheriff. He felt stupid to think of a thought of how there was no one to hold his hand. He drew out a shaky breath as he began to feel the table moving backwards inside the machinery. Familiar white, bright lights met with his eyes. The speaker in the machine came on to hear Dr. Landis' voice of saying not to move and the loud sound may sound like a clanking noise. He's heard it all before.

Once the noise started he closed his eyes almost immediately, feeling a wave of nausea hit him. During an MRI scan, they say it's okay to breathe, but Stiles found that impossible. Especially the not moving part. He felt as if it was a miracle that he agreed Scott should come. Without him, he felt as if he was the only man on earth.

 

"So…how did you take it?"

Stiles could see the hesitation in Scott's face as he simply shrugged. "I don't know, man. It was…" he broke off to lock gazes with Stiles who lay uncomfortably on his bed. "Hard."

Stiles nodded his head and sighed bringing up a hand to rub down his face. "You probably shouldn't have come."

"No," Scott replied almost immediately. "I wanted to be there. Besides, you couldn't have stopped me at whatever decision you made. Yes or no…I still would have come. You know why?"

Stiles quirked a brow. "I'm guessing you're gonna tell me?"

"Because you're my best friend, Stiles."

Stiles gave a shaky breath through his nose, breaking eye contact to look at the floor. He nodded his head in understanding as Scott continued. "You're my brother."

Stiles looked at him again and gave out a small laugh. "You just stole my line."

Scott smiled. "I learn from the best."

"And don't you forget it, Scotty."

Scott rolled his eyes playfully as Stiles watched him shuffle his way across the room to pick out a dvd case from his movie shelf. Stiles furrowed his eyebrows in confusion until Scott flipped it over. Stiles eyes brightened.

"Star Wars?"

Scott gave one of his goofy grins as he nodded and made his way to sit beside him on the bed. "Yeah, I was thinking that we could have a marathon tonight. You and me?"

"I'm still pissed that you haven't seen it before. You have no idea…"

"Hey, do you wanna watch it or not? If not, then I guess you'll have to live a tortuous life of your best friend never understanding your references."

"Oh my god you're right." Stiles said scrunching his face in disgust. "It feels weird to say that, but you're right."

Scott chuckled as he put the movie in and situated himself on the bed beside Stiles. Stiles was glad his dad didn't discuss what the MRI scan had looked like today. He knew it was bad, at how the Sheriff would clench and unclench his jaw and watch him warily in the passenger's seat as his grip was tightened on the steering wheel, making his knuckles turn white the whole drive home. He could picture him downstairs staring into the manila folder again, probably drinking. Stiles had to inwardly curse himself about how his father found the whiskey bottle.

Stiles answered Scott's questions during the movie. Who's that creepy old guy? Stiles had to roll his eyes at his stupid questions, but also can't help the small pull of his lips in a small smile. Stiles didn't watch half of the movie as thoughts jumbled across his mind. Most of them were about his dad and how depressed he always looked every time Stiles looked at him. He remembered when he used to be so happy. Happy when his mother was still alive. After her passing, he was depressed for months and had a serious drinking problem where he had to be relieved of being the deputy of Beacon Hills. Of course as the drinking died down a little, he went straight back to working at the department again and was gratefully moved up to be the Sheriff. Stiles encountered his drunken state too many times to count, and now it was starting all over again.

Stiles winced slightly when he felt a familiar pain again. The migraine. He tried to push it away with rubbing his temples with the palm of his hand. He prayed a simple thank you to whoever was listening that the pain went unnoticed towards Scott. Seconds passed. Then minutes and just those few minutes made Stiles feel like his whole body was on fire. The migraine was excruciating and felt as if his brain was going to explode any second now. He could feel his heart thump rigidly in his chest and was still surprised Scott hasn't even glanced his way. The migraine was getting worse and Stiles felt his hands shake. He tried to take one hand to stop it from shaking but it only made it worse. He looked up to see that the movie was finished as the familiar credits flashed on and off in blue bolded letters. Scott was asleep beside him. No wonder he doesn't know.

He felt his whole body shake now as if he was having a small seizure. Was he? He breathed shaky breaths of horror as the tremors induced and he couldn't take control of it. "Scotty…" it was barely a whisper and his best friend didn't move.

He felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes that he refused to let fall as the pain got worse. He mouthed words that couldn't come out his mouth. He felt so useless. So weak. He tried to find his voice again but stopped short when he felt a ticklish feeling on his skin just above his mouth. He suspected it was just sweat but he couldn't help to find out. Trying to take control of his body, he slowly brought up a shaky hand to touch the wet substance. He took a quick glance at his fingers which were now covered in a horrifying dash of red.

"Scotty!" Stiles nearly screamed and Scott bolted awake instantly.

"Stiles, what-," he broke off with a hitch of his breath when he took in Stiles' state. "Oh god."

He rushed forward in what Stiles knows was werewolf speed as he felt warm hands touching his face. Scott looked on in fear as Stiles' body shook uncontrollably. He brought his hands on Stiles' shoulders trying to hold him down and still his body, but it only made it worse as Stiles' gaze grew unfocused and the tremors completely took over.

"Sheriff!" Scott screamed, watching in horror as Stiles' eyes closed shut but the tremors didn't change. "Call an ambulance!"

He pulled Stiles into an embrace, clenching his fists into the hems of Stiles' shirt as his body convulsed against his. "Hold on, Stiles. Hold on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is a short chapter, but I will update really soon!


	4. Not About Angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God. So much feels and hurt in this chapter. It made me cry just writing this!   
> So, I'm basing this chapter on the song "Not About Angels" by Birdy and I think I fits really well with this chapter.  
> Sterek, if you squint ;)

The familiar smell of sanitary and bright lights filtering through his shut eyelids brought Stiles blinking them open into awareness. He didn't need to put together a puzzle to know that he was in the hospital due to the constant beeps of the heart rate monitor. The first thought that came to his mind was I'm in the hospital again? His body felt numb and the only thing he could move was a slight twitch of his fingers and shifting his head from side to side. It must be a medication the doctors gave him.

He drew out a long breath, shifting slightly on the hospital bed. He felt hard plastic underneath his nostrils which happened to be a cannula. He furrowed his eyebrows as he brought up a weak hand that was covered in IV needles to feel the hard plastic with his fingers. Something caught at the corner of his eye to see the familiar color of a sweater one man had always worn when he was off of work.

He peered his gaze to examine the Sheriff sleeping in a chair next to his bedside, one elbow was propped up as he leaned his head against his hand. Stiles forced himself to swallow a lump in his throat as he slowly moved his own hand to lightly nudge the Sheriff's arm. He bolted awake instantly, looking left and right as if there was danger before locking his gaze on his hospitalized son.

"Stiles?" The Sheriff murmured, quickly moving his hand to put on top of his. "Thank God." Stiles took in his dad's reaction clearly seeing the force of holding back tears and giving a smile of relief. Stiles failed a few times to give a reply. He could feel the dryness in his throat and cracks in his voice even when he made a sound.

"Dad? What…what happened?" It hurt to speak but there was no stopping him.

Stiles noticed the Sheriff's eyes lace with confusion for a short split second before his eyes softened again. "You – you don't…You don't remember?"

Stiles gaze went downward to look at the blanket that covered him to his waist as he tried to fill in the empty spaces. "I-I remember I was with Scott. We…were watching a Star Wars marathon…" Stiles winced as he pushed himself to think further, but it was all blank. "Then that's it. It's like it's there but it's not."

The Sheriff nodded, clenching and unclenching his jaw and shooting his gaze downwards. Stiles could see the hesitation in his eyes before he answered. "You had a serious nosebleed and…" he paused to swallow a lump in his throat. "You had some kind of seizure and then you – you passed out."

Stiles eyes widened slightly and sucked in a shaky breath as his father continued. "Scott and I rushed you to the hospital because we knew the ambulance wasn't going to get there on time. Y-you wouldn't stop convulsing." Stiles could hear his dad's voice crack on his last sentence and already see the tears streaming down his face.

"The doctors gave you a sedative to help with the tremors. I…I've never been so terrified in my life."

Stiles heart skipped a couple of beats. He could understand what his dad went through. Having to watch his only son having a seizure thinking that it was the end. Especially Scott. Oh God. Scott. Stiles couldn't imagine how he feels right now.

"H-how long?"

The Sheriff's eyes narrowed, not seeming to process what he was saying. "What?"

Stiles paused to swallow another lump in his throat. "How long have I been like this?"

He saw the hesitation in his dad's eyes and there was no way he could hide it. The Sheriff scrunched up his face and looked down again, tearing his eyes away from his son. He couldn't look him in the eye and say it. "Three days."

Stiles let out a shaky breath, eyes widening. This was just like his mom. He remembered a few months before she died, she was hospitalized just like this. The doctors said it was some kind of seizure. He suddenly felt a wet substance stream down his cheek of a single tear he didn't remember shedding.

"Dad," Stiles whimpered, inhaling a few shaky breaths. "It's happening a lot faster than I thought. It's just like Mom."

The Sheriff froze, parting to give a reply but Stiles cut him off.

"I saw the folder that night I came home. A-and I…I'm scared."

He saw his father give a heartbroken expression as he held back an ocean of tears. "I'm so scared. And I know you are too." Stiles felt the tears still coming and he felt like there was not stopping them. "I'm scared that you're not gonna have anyone when I'm gone. I'm scared of dying. Scott offered me the bite, you know. He said it could save me…but I don't think I'm strong enough. Not after what just happened. I'm scared of not being human anymore, Dad. How you're gonna look at me every day just like you look at Scott. You know you never look at him the same anymore after you found out what he is? It's that look that's holding me back from accepting it. How can you have a werewolf as a son?"

The Sheriff felt himself crying as he squeezed his son's arm to stop his rambling. "Stop, just stop."

Stiles gritted his teeth to keep in his sobs and the only result was quiet small heaving of his body and tiny whimpers escaping from his lips.

The Sheriff locked a hard and firm gaze on him as Stiles watched him struggle with tears too. "Stiles, you're my son. My son. I don't care what the hell you are because it is hell of a lot better than to not see you breathing. Because I can't live in world without you and I don't want to be alone. I don't wanna be alone, Stiles."

Stiles' bottom lip quivered at his words. "I know, Dad. B-but I'm too weak. The bite might not take. Erica Reyes may have had seizures before she was turned but she was hell of a lot stronger than I am. Everyone is stronger than I am."

"That's not true."

"But it is, Dad. It is true and I'm gonna keep seeing it that way because I've been in denial for too long to admit it. This disease…it's making me weaker and if I take the bite, I'm pretty sure I'll be vomiting black blood all over the carpet in less than a minute. I'd rather die a slow death than an agonized one." Stiles felt his voice crack on his last sentence as he watched the Sheriff trying to keep himself together.

His dad gritted his teeth. "You're gonna die an agonizing death anyway if you keep this up."

"I've been in denial for too long, Dad," Stiles murmured, completely ignoring what his dad told him. "It's time for me to face reality. It's time for me to stop denying. Because if I do…it's only gonna make it worse."

The Sheriff shook his head. "I can't lose you, Stiles." He sobbed. "I can't. Not like your mother."

"I-I'm sorry." Stiles closed his eyes, can't finding the courage to look at his heartbroken father. "I'm so sorry."

And that was the last thing he said the entire day to him.

 

The doctors let him out of the hospital within the next few hours, giving him yet another bag of medications to take. The Sheriff told him that everyone had come to see him while he was unconscious but the doctors could only allow family in the ICU. He stayed silent on the drive home as he watched the rain drops stream down his side of the window. He could sense his father glance at him every few minutes, trying to find words to say but they slowly died in his mouth. Stiles has never felt so weak or useless in his life. The dementia was working on him fast and the bite would only kill him faster. He couldn't think and it scared him because he could always think and he never stopped. He felt like he was turning into a stern and broody Derek; his face cold and expressionless. Maybe Stiles was worse.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but stayed frozen as if the object never existed. He knows it was probably Scott. Or Lydia. Allison. Derek. He didn't feel like finding out as the car pulled into their driveway. In his mind, Stiles would have said 'home-sweet-home', but of course…he didn't. The rain seemed to be pouring down a lot harder just as the Sheriff put the car in park and Stiles didn't move his position. He could feel his dad's eyes bore into the side of his head and drew out a long sigh. "I'm gonna go open the door okay?" he murmured. Stiles didn't answer as his gaze stayed specifically on one rain drop on his window. "You can come in when you're ready…maybe when the rain dies down?"

Still nothing.

The Sheriff knitted his eyebrows together, letting out another sigh and slowly climbed out of the car. Stiles watched silently as he saw his father half ran, half jog his way to get to the front door passed the rain which slightly soaked his sweater.

He sat there in silence for what seemed like an hour but he knows it's only been minutes. He surprisingly felt his hand moving to grab his phone out of his pocket. It was like something was taking over him that he couldn't control. He turned his phone on and he wasn't too surprised. Five missed calls from Scott. Two from Lydia. One from Derek. The rest were all text messages.

From Scott: Call me

From Scott: Dude, please pick up your phone

From Scott: Are you okay?

From Lydia: Call me as soon as you're out of the hospital

From Allison: Oh my God. Stiles are you okay?

From Isaac: Hey. Scott's been trying to get ahold of you. And are you okay?

Stiles shut his phone off as soon as he finished reading his messages, not feeling any regret for not replying back. He couldn't face them. They would ask him repeating questions and it was really pissing him off. They already know he's not okay because he's not. Just as he told Scott in the cafeteria, he will never be okay.

 

After about fifteen minutes of sitting in the car, Stiles finally went inside. He found his father asleep on the couch with the TV still on. Stiles knows that he barely got any sleep while he was unconscious in the hospital. He inwardly sighed as he slowly and quietly made his way upstairs to his room. His room. It was where it all happened and he was slightly glad he didn't remember exactly what went on with the seizure he had. He took an inhale of breath as he slowly opened his door. The sight wasn't what he expected as he saw a familiar figure standing at the foot of his bed. He jumped and felt his heart skip a couple beats.

"Derek? What the hell are you doing here?!" Stiles nearly shouted putting a hand over his heart. He didn't want to wake the Sheriff sleeping downstairs.

The werewolf raised his eyebrows. "I heard what happened. You're not answering anyone's calls or messages."

"Oh, of course you heard! That doesn't surprise me even in the slightest."

"Stiles…"

"What, Derek?" Stiles snapped.

Derek crossed his arms and looked down, surprised by Stiles' outburst. "I was just making sure that you're okay."

Stiles scoffed and gave a scornful laugh. "'Okay?' I'm not 'okay', Derek. In fact I will never be in that matter because guess what? News flash; I happen to be diagnosed with a disease that took my mother's life. And I'm next. I am dying and I can feel it. And no, Derek. I can't take the bite. I'm sure you already know why-,"

"But Scott doesn't."

Stiles paused, clamping his lips together. "I don't want to discuss this."

"Stiles." Derek pressed, and Stiles could hear a small growl. "Don't do this to yourself."

"Do. What?" Stiles muttered through gritted teeth.

"You're in disgust of yourself. I can smell your emotions. You're angry, scared, depressed-,"

"Depressed? Ha. Yeah, that one isn't new."

"-and you need to stop being this way. You're pushing everyone away, Stiles. Including your own father! For God's sake Stiles, we're only trying to help you but you won't let us."

"I never wanted any of your help! I never asked for any of your help! And I definitely never wanted this particular life!" He felt angry tears prick at the corners of his eyes he didn't remember getting there.

He saw Derek slightly widen his eyes and part his mouth to say something but the words died in his mouth.

Stiles moved over to his bed and sat down, clenching his fists in his hair as he felt tears stream down his cheeks. "Please, leave."

He could feel Derek's hesitant glare on him without looking his way. "Stiles-,"

"Get out, Derek!"

"No!"

Stiles whipped his head towards him, eyes slightly widening at Derek's remark. Derek stood there with a hint of anger in his eyes and clenched his fists. Stiles thought he saw his eyes glow for a short split second before his eyes softened and he sighed. "Look, Stiles…I didn't come here to piss you off, alright? Everyone's been worried about you and one of them just so happens to be me."

Stiles gave a blank expression, tearing his gaze away from him to look at his own hands. "Why you? You can't even stand the sight of me."

Derek scoffed softly. "You know that's not true."

Stiles gave a watery laugh as more tears welled up in his eyes making his vision blurry. He felt his hands shake and he was relieved that it wasn't signs of another seizure but just nervousness. "I never wanted any of this."

Derek blanched as he slowly made his way to sit beside Stiles on the edge of his bed, listening to him continue.

"I never wanted my mom to die…" he paused to swallow a lump in his throat with a couple of tears threatening to fall. "And every time I think of her it always comes back to that day. I was there, you know. The night it happened." Stiles felt a pain in his chest as he struggled to keep in his sobs. "There were no last words…"

Derek couldn't tear his gaze away from him. He's never seen Stiles cry and it terrified him.

"She was in a coma when she flat-lined. But I remember her words to me before she was hospitalized since I barely saw her. I was just too scared to face her and see her in that condition. It killed me…but it was killing her faster." Stiles clenched his teeth in anger as more tears kept running nonstop. "Before my dad brought her to the hospital…she told me that she loved me." Stiles felt his bottom lip quiver. "But I didn't say it back." His sentence ended with a sob that he's been containing for what seemed like an eternity. "I didn't say it back!"

Derek forced himself not to cry with but he felt sad tears well in his eyes. He wanted to hug him, to tell him everything was going to be okay – but he couldn't find any words to reply to him.

"I hate myself!" Stiles sobbed angrily, banging a fist on his bed weakly. Derek felt something take over him then, as he pulled Stiles towards him so that his head leaned against his chest as an awkward embrace. Derek felt weird to call it awkward when he was in a heartbreaking situation. He felt Stiles' body hack with silent sobs against his as he repeated the words over and over again. Derek wanted to tell him to stop or to tell him it wasn't his fault, but he only said short reassuring words. "It's okay. You're okay." A part of him mentally punched himself for only finding those comforting words and not anything else.

Derek held him like that until Stiles fell asleep. He knitted his eyebrows together in empathy as he gently placed him in a comfortable position on his bed. He stood there for a few seconds examining him over before slowly turning around. "Derek."

He stopped at mid-turn to see Stiles woken up. His face was still red and puffy from the crying as his golden brown eyes bored into his. "Yeah, Stiles?"

"Promise me you won't tell anyone about this. About what I said. Especially Scott."

"He doesn't know?"

Stiles ignored the question. "Please. This has to stay between us."

Derek didn't even hesitate. "You have my word."

Derek turned towards the window to make his way out, when he heard a small whisper thanks to his werewolf hearing. "Thanks, Derek."

They met gazes and Derek smiled. "Anytime."

He opened Stiles window and crouched on top of the windowsill where he saw the rain still pouring down hard. "And one more thing, Stiles."

"Yeah?"

"Call Scott. Call everyone." And then he was gone.

 

Stiles' heart beat rapidly in his chest and his gasping breaths made everything echo as he shuffled his way through a narrow sewage tunnel. He was trying to get away from someone. He touched his hands to both sides of the narrow wall and it felt like they were closing in on him – slowly and agonizingly. He felt dizzy and about to topple over at any minute, but kept his feet moving as he felt his foot step into puddle from a leaking pipe. Stiles felt his whole pant leg get soaked but there was no stopping him. There was no light at the end of the tunnel in front of him – it just kept going on and on.

"It's you." He heard a deep voice echo throughout the tunnel from all around him, making him stop his tracks gasping for air. He knew that voice. "It's all you."

Stiles whipped his head from left and right to find the figure. He felt himself crying as he held onto the walls tightly as if they were going to crumble on top of him.

"It's you, Stiles."

Stiles felt his bottom lip tremble, shaking his head in denial as the voice grew louder as if it were making its way towards him.

"You know, every day, I saw her lying in that hospital, slowly dying…" the voice seethed with disgust. "I thought how the hell am I supposed to raise this stupid kid on my own? This hyperactive little bastard who keeps ruining my life!" 

He felt his knees buckle and make contact with the wet concrete floor, tightly bringing his hands to over his ears, determined to make the voice go away.

"So…It's you, Stiles!" 

Stiles kept shaking his head in denial, feeling tears fall freely down his face. "No…no…no…no."

"You killed your mother, you hear me?"

Stiles sobbed, squeezing his hands tighter against his ears. But his sobs didn't outmatch the thunder of the voice. 

"You killed her…"

"NO!" Stiles screamed, screwing his eyes shut. He heard the figure's footsteps meters behind him, splashing softly in the puddles. He didn't dare turn around.

"And now you're killing me."

He heard the footsteps come to an abrupt stop right behind him. So close, he could hear the figure breathing. His eyes opened wide and frightened and took his hands from his ears slowly. His conscious screamed at him not to turn around but he couldn't help himself. Struggling to keep himself together he slowly turned his head and let out a cry at the figure he saw.

Claudia Stilinski stood behind him, wearing the hospital gown she died in. Her hard, cold glare bore into his and Stiles lips trembled with fear. He saw something so clearly that won't be hard to miss – blood poured out of Claudia's nose, dribbling down her chin and onto the ground. He saw the tears in her eyes as more blood kept oozing out. 

"Why did you kill me, Stiles?"

Stiles woke up screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sigh* I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel horrible of doing this to Stiles...but there's gotta be some Stiles!whump fans out there - who's with me?!  
> I'll update soon. Comments please!


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